


Obsidian

by Miasunrise



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Link goes adventuring outside of Hyrule, M/M, Magic, Post-Calamity Ganon, guess what he finds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miasunrise/pseuds/Miasunrise
Summary: The deeper he goes, the more his skin crawls. But it isn’t the crawling of discomfort. No, it’s the sort of nagging that comes from curiosity. The air grows dreary as he goes down, down, down, but this deepening darkness only widens his eyes, making him want to seek and search and stare.
Relationships: Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  


The Hylian Hero is inside a deep jungle. The vines are the size of his arms, a hyperized electric green like glowing algae, and the wood of every tree is a deep, dusty red. The vines themselves are layered like yarn thrown in a forgotten heap. The trunks of the trees are long enough to be looming; they scrape the skyline like green spearheads, their tops nearly in the clouds. It’s nothing like anything he’d seen in Hyrule, as beautiful as the wilds there are. During his year long journey to defeat Ganon Link had seen all of Hyrule more than once, but this forest, miles across the Faron Sea, is impossibly different. 

Once his task was complete, once Zelda was safe and wrapped in his arms for a long, long hug – he had to get away. She encouraged him to. She said she wanted to get away herself, but she had a kingdom to rebuild. Link tried to convince her to come with him anyway. She’d smiled and said it was his time to rest, whatever that meant for him, and that it was her turn to take on the heavy burden of their destiny. 

She’d already had a heavy burden but Zelda was stubborn and she shook her head when he said as much. 

Link will force her to rest when he gets back.

With the slate still strapped to his hip he can return in a flash.

Sweating, stepping carefully over red roots and unearthly green vines, Link comes across a small clearing. Maybe it’s not a clearing at all. Above him the swath of leaves blot out the sun like a canopy full of holes, small rays peeking through like glittering candlelight. 

In this tiny space there’s not much flora.

At the very centre, jagged and gigantic, there is a rock. 

It sits sunken into the muddy earth, most of it hidden deep underground, the size of a small cabin. It’s split in two. There’s a curling crack through its diameter, at least six feet wide. It looks like a cave with its mouth flat on the ground. 

Staring down into the cool darkness of that six-foot wide crack, Link is sure he can fit. 

And he _is_ going. There’s nothing telling him what to do, at least right now, and so he’ll do what he wants. When and if Hyrule needs him again he will go – and he assumes he’ll be called again, because the slate still works, because the shrines still radiate energy, because Impa had told him so. But for now, just for right now, he’s free to wander and there is a gigantic rock cored into the ground with a deeply dark and weird cave and it is right in front of him. 

There are markings outside the rock. Maybe it was manmade. It looks ancient, older than the guardian weapons from the Akkala Tech Lab, older than anything Purah had ever told him about or shown him. The markings are blurry and worn by time. None of them fill him with a particular sense of comfort but he feels drawn in as if his eyes had never seen something so indescribable, as if getting closer might make it all make sense. 

Adjusting the belts that hold his sword – not the master sword, not right now, it needs a break as much as he does – Link begins climbing down to the dark depths of this strange rock-monument. 

The stone turns black. He can’t explain it, not how or when, but the moment he slips inside that split rock it all turns as black as ink and he’s not inside a rock, it really is a monument, it really is some chamber or some vertical hall built into the cold ground like a passage to somewhere much, much darker. 

Still the hero moves on. There’s not much that scares him anymore and everything had turned out the best it could. Whatever this strange passage has to offer he’ll take it gladly.

The climb down is slippery. He has to do it backwards, gripping jutting out stone as he goes, the air changing from cool to cold to frigid the deeper down he descends. There are more markings. Peculiar circles with lines and boxes and spheres and dots; exploding, convoluted alphabets he couldn’t hope to decipher. Maybe Zelda could, but all Link wants to do is stare and wonder, not try to answer. 

The deeper he goes, the more his skin crawls. But it isn’t the crawling of discomfort. No, it’s the sort of nagging that comes from curiosity. The air grows dreary as he goes down, down, down, but this deepening darkness only widens his eyes, making him want to seek and search and stare. 

Eventually he reaches the bottom. He looks back up—the top of the black tunnel has a single light: its entrance where he can barely see the eclectic green trees of this foreign jungle.

It’s not enough to see by. There’s another tunnel in front of him, this one horizontal, and oh—a sound, is that a sound?—is there someone calling, asking, is there a whispering wind trailing out— 

He pulls out a luminous stone, its soft glow lighting the black stone walls bleeding with an ancient dead text and the sound of that chattering whisper grows louder as he walks but fear doesn’t cross his mind, not for a second, not at all. Weeks ago he’d stared fear in its face in the eyes of whatever was left of Ganon and so this mystery all around him, to Link, is only that.

Something to be curious about.

Still that ancient text etched into the walls seems to be talking to him and maybe that should be concerning, maybe his self-preservation skills should take the lead for a while. 

It isn’t. They don’t. 

Link keeps walking.

The tunnel only gets darker and colder, and his breath comes out in puffs of white steam. The rock under his feet is uneven and damp. He’s glad he brought warmer clothes and slips on his coat from Rito Village, thinking about how far away the materials are from, wondering if he’s ever going to run into another person way out across the sea, wonders if they’d ever had boats in Hyrule… 

There’s a door.

It’s _sort_ of a door. 

It’s a flat stone wall, disconnected from the jagged black rock around it. Obsidian, he thinks, this cave is made of pure obsidian or something a lot like it. He could take some back to the Goron. They’d be able to tell him. 

He looks at the convoluted text carved all through it, entrenched like cracks through diamond, and thinks he better not take any of this stone anywhere. 

Link pushes at the door, and he pulls at the door, his knuckles whitening and his jaw stiff and a soft, long groan of effort from his pressed lips. It budges. It just _barely_ budges. He sets the luminous stone down, had been holding it in the pit of his arm, and he tries again, one foot on the stone wall and eyes falling shut to the action. 

It just barely budges again.

Oh, the slate! The _door_ isn’t obsidian; it might be metal. 

It is metal, he realizes as the magic of the slate forces it open, the sound of sharp scrapes echoing all through this tunnel of cold air and darkness. 

Inside the door there’s a room. It’s big and dome-shaped, like a grotto.

The ceiling is rounded and high. There are white flowers lined with ugly black thorns. There are helixes of diamond patterns etched into the curving walls, endless rows of them, different sizes and some sort of mineral in the rock making them glitter in the glow of the luminous stone, which Link holds out to lead his way. He enters the chamber, breathless, trying to understand where he is and what he’s seeing. 

In the very centre, as if a speck of dust in this great hall of obsidian and white flowers and ragged dark thorns...

There is a sword.

It’s lying flat on a stone slab. It’s chained down tightly. There’s one heavy chain, rusted with redness but obviously once black, sunk over its crossguard. There’s another chain wrapped around the blade in spirals. A third is oppressing its hilt. All three tie it to the slab, the chains disappearing inside the stone, clearly formed by magic. 

The whispering is worse here. Shuddering sounds of soft madness. He should be afraid; Link’s never been great with magic but even _he_ can feel that whatever is down here is… evil. Oppressive. But he doesn’t know—can’t know—if it’s the sword that’s full of this malice, or the chains that bind it here. 

In the year he’d spent trying to seal the worst evil in existence, he’s learned not to assume. 

Walking further inside, Link looks at the flowers: they are all seven-petaled, each petal coming to a point that goes from thin to thick and flares back out. The anthers are black. He has eaten his fair share of flowers—he thinks these might be poisonous because other black-anthered flowers in Hyrule are, but he can’t really know for sure. 

He returns his attention to the sword. Link reaches out, his hand steady and slow, and touches the chains that keep it pressed into the stone slab. They’re freezing. Who would chain a sword up way down here? Why? The sword, blacker than the obsidian, is flared just like the flowers, three distinct sections of the blade cut in diamond shapes, met with an arching crossguard; a red gem entrenched between that, and a proud black hilt to end it all. 

Link stares for a long time. 

He’s always liked swords. 

He has his favourites.

But this is…

“Beautiful,” he says in a hoarse whisper, and is whispered back at by whatever magic haunts this place. But the whispers aren’t evil—they’re dark and restless but they’re not bad. Eyes full of black steel and a ruby-red gem, Link slips his gloves off his hands. He sets them down on the slab and then places his fingers on that stark black hilt, wanting to know what it feels like. 

It burns with heat, a surge that hikes through his veins straight to the front of his head, widening his eyes. This is power—and this passion— 

What kind of sword—

_Now what is this…?_

A voice as clear as a starry night over Hyrule Field shatters through his mind. Link freezes, his hand motionless on a black hilt. 

_What little thing has found my tomb…? Your grip is nauseating. Remove it at once._

Link does, if for no other reason than shock, but maybe also because it’s polite. 

Is the sword… talking?

There’s a light sound, a bright chiming, and suddenly black diamonds dance in the low-glow of the luminous stone. They fill his eyes. 

When they part like smoke Link is staring at something impossible.

There’s a man, but not a man; he’s seven feet tall, made of pure black metal; his hair is white and styled in a way too sweet for his looming mass, his prominent muscles, the helix-like winding white diamond pattern up and down his naked night-coloured frame and oh—what is he looking at, so red, a wide red diamond right in the middle of a proud chest, just at eye-level. Link nearly loses himself. He almost reaches out to touch it, but that would be rude, and so he just stares, his lips dropping open in plain wonder.

“I do not know how you found this place,” comes a voice like singing metal, “You would be wise to leave, mortal, before I recall my predilection for bloodlust.” 

The white diamond pattern—skirting up his steel-strong black form—matches his hair. His teeth, just as bright white, are longly fanged. His hands are clawed. He’s naked and has two sharply pointed ears, both longer and wider than Link’s own. And that red diamond… Something swirls inside of it. A soul, he thinks with a puff of air that escapes his open mouth, a soul, there’s a spirit in there and this… 

“Remain here much longer, little thing, and I will show you a pit black enough to make your nightmares seem like paradise.” 

Is this the spirit of the sword? Link keeps staring, his eyes wide and roaming up and down and up and down his long legs, his pretty hair, the full-white eyes that match all the other white accents of his body. And that radiating passion from the hilt just under his bare hand. That restless energy. He wants to feel it better, that endless honest lust for life, one that he thinks matches his own. 

“Are your ears functional, or are you merely inept?” His metallic voice shuts Link’s eyes; he can hear it better like that, its echoing tones somehow lilting. “Or do you want for death? Tiny insignificant sun that you are—I could snuff you out in seconds.” A shiver runs up his spine; wildly he _wants_ to be snuffed out and he can’t explain why. 

White eyes burn down at him when he opens his own. Link looks back up at them, his heart hammering inside his chest. What is this? His mouth drops open again, words trying to come, but nothing flows out of him but straining silence. 

A clawed hand wraps around his shoulder. Link expected it to be cold, but it’s hot, it’s hotter than anything.

“ _Run_ , you stupid mortal; I have not felt the release of slaughter in far too long to withhold myself here and now. I wish to _devour_ and you are the first soul to cross my blade in an _exceptionally_ long time.” A tongue slips out, black and long, right between his fangs. 

Link looks at the hand on his shoulder and then follows the arm up to those fangs and white eyes and sweet hair and the diamonds and his mouth falls open without his permission and dizzy with dark whispers in his ears he says, “You’re… pretty.” 

Instantly embarrassment makes Link want to curl in on himself. 

There’s a disgusted huff and like a waterfall diamonds pour out, blinding him for a moment.

When they dissipate the spirit is gone. The glow of the luminous stone shines on obsidian walls and white flowers and this impossible grotto he’d stumbled into without really thinking about it. But most good things in life are the ones you don’t think too hard about—at least he thinks so, has always lived like they were. 

_Pretty!_ The voice isn’t metallic anymore. It’s brightly baritone, not drastically deep but not high either. Sonorous like poetry, not that Link’s ever understood poetry; he suspects he doesn’t understand this spirit right, either. _Boy, I am much more than ‘pretty.’ I am BEAUTIFUL, I am STUNNING, I am the most MAGNIFICENT sight in all of TIME and you will DIE for your insolence!_

Although Link is listening, his gaze has wandered down to the chains. 

They look easy enough to break. 

Carefully, he pulls out the slate and aims his shot.

_What are you DOING? I have told you thrice to leave!_

“What’s your name?” he asks, adjusting the slate, lining up the light.

_My… name._

Link nods. “I’m going to break these. Okay?” 

When no reply comes, he decides it’s okay. That evil magic isn’t from the sword, it’s from this metal binding him, and that’s enough of a reason.

Link freezes the ancient metal and breaks the chains with three smacks of the luminous stone. They shatter like brittle glass. 

With a definite nod, he sets the luminous stone down on the slab, his task complete.

_How…_

“Mine’s Link,” he says, looking at the sword again.

_An unfortunate title._

“Well, what’s yours?”

 _I am Demon Lord Ghirahim!_ Comes a shrill cry. _You will leave here, tiny mortal, or you shall soon find yourself—WHAT are you doing NOW, boy?_

“Taking you with me,” Link says, now holding the ominous sword with both hands, the tip of its blade pointed towards the top of the dome-shaped ceiling of this stone grotto.

_Did no one elect to teach you any manners? You arrive in MY resting place and decide on your own YOU will remove me from it?_

Link droops visibly, frowning. “Sorry,” he says. “Do you want to stay here?” 

_Do I want…_

“What do you want to do?” He asks, setting the sword back down on the slab. He knows he can be kind of… intense, sometimes. He has a bad habit of not thinking before he acts. “I’m just exploring. I was stuck somewhere before, sort of, but I… I’m free now.” He rubs at the back of his neck, staring down at the red diamond. “So I just thought- You’re stuck, so I thought…” 

A bright chime plays through his head, sounding a lot like a scoff. _Playing hero, are you?_

Link shrugs. “If you want.” 

_Again with what I want. Do you suppose my own desires matter to this world?_

Link shrugs again.

_I am a demon, hero. A fierce evil._

Unable to help it, the blond laughs. 

A ring of chimes comes from the sword, that red gem fluttering with angry light. He’s mad, Link made him _mad_ , and that dark energy seems to dance, but the burn is so good—good like a fire in the dead of winter, good like the thought of a flood when he’s in the middle of the Gerudo Desert. 

“Sorry,” he says, covering his mouth from any remaining laughter. “It’s just… I’ve seen evil, and it felt a lot different than this.” Link holds his hand over the hilt, but then he stops. “Can I touch you?” Embarrassment makes his stomach curl again but he _wants_ to do it, and he needs to ask, and he doesn’t want to leave this strange grotto alone. 

_Can you…_ The gem flutters. _You are vastly incomprehensible._

Link smiles, but his mouth isn’t cooperating so the smile looks weirdly twisted, but he’s never been able to work his face right. “Can I?” 

There’s that chiming again and a flood of black diamonds and then the demon is standing in front of him again—no, sitting; Ghirahim is sitting on that stone slab, inches from his own blade, one leg crossed over the other and preening in soft blue light like a giant decorative raven.

“What sort of deranged expression is this?” he asks, waving a languid hand towards Link’s lips. “Does your mouth not function properly?” 

Blue eyes drop helplessly to his chest. Staring at the gem, he asks under his breath, “Can I touch that?” 

“You are abundantly mindless, aren’t you.” One black foot bounces, clear impatience in the action. “If you put your hands there, you guileless little hero, you will be making a request of me. One you cannot return. You will bind our souls together for all of time, however little of it someone of your lowly station may harbour.” 

“That’s fine,” Like says, his eyes full of red. 

The sword chimes again, this one clearly alarmed. “That’s _fine_?” 

The blond nods.

A warm, metallic, clawed hand wraps around his wrist like a vice. Link gasps, the sound a lot like a whine, and he wonders why all of this strangeness feels so good, wonders if he shouldn’t stop himself but he likes it and he’d given all of himself to Hyrule to Hylia and if even just for a few hours he could have something like this—

—and if for forever—

“Your desire is repulsive,” the demon says, his fire-like breath blowing across Link’s cheek, “Such _light_ … What do you _want_ of me, hero?” 

Link licks his lips, trying to focus; his actions always overtake him, blind his head so his words won’t work. And the way this demon looks, the looming height and the white diamond patterns and the lovely shape of his eyes; the darkly playful tone; the slow pulse of his presence. 

What’s he supposed to _do?_

Link closes his eyes and forces his mouth to work. “Can I touch you?” he asks again. 

“Where.”

“The—diamond.” 

“Did you not hear me, boy?” The demon hisses, his breath still fiery and close. “I am currently without a charge. And any who claim me,” he pauses as if making sure Link is really listening, but he is, he is— “do so eternally, or perish in their attempt.” 

“Yeah.” Link swallows down something heavy. The demon still has a death-grip on his wrist. “Can I?” 

White eyes search his own, just the faint flutter of movement, and Link keeps his open hoping this demon finds whatever it is he’s looking for, because Link’s pretty sure he’s found his own version of that already. 

With a sudden jerk his hand is pulled all the way in, all the way forward. 

It’s forced down onto the wide surface of that red diamond. 

“Oh…”

His head lulls over with a fog, a messy feeling of soft euphoria and harsh heat. 

“You must be strong, mortal that you are, to keep your will through all these wards.” 

Link nods, swallowing again, letting his fingers flex over the brilliant red gem. He can feel all of this demon’s lightless magic and he lets it in, lets it run inside his veins; but it doesn’t control him. He knows what he wants regardless of it bleeding all through his head. 

Slowly, so that this demon could stop him, Link uses his free hand to part his legs. Ghirahim only stares and allows himself to be moved, a smirk pulling his dark mouth until fanged teeth show plainly; so Link keeps going. There’s nothing between his thighs, naked as he is, but that isn’t exactly that kind of desire overtaking him anyway. He leaves his other hand on that gem. Link caresses it gradually with his thumb, pressing in firm over hard diamond; and then he slips in between his legs, slotting himself there with a slow sigh through his nose. A sigh that means ‘finally.’ 

Ghirahim, sitting on the stone slab, looks down at him. “ _Very_ forward,” is all he says. 

Nodding, Link rubs his whole hand over the diamond. A short noise comes from the demon. Maybe a moan, maybe just an annoyed huff. 

“Come with me.”

“You do not know me, little hero.”

Link smiles, breathes out slow; he’s risked more for people he didn’t know and couldn’t remember. 

“I’m not that little,” he says. “Come with me anyway.”

A hand like heated metal surges towards his throat; a single claw replaces it, slipping over tendons, one line of firm pressure from his clavicle to his chin. “So demanding,” the demon says, tilting Link’s head up. “Do you suppose you can control me?” 

There’s a fog as thick as thunderlight blocking his mind from his mouth. The claw on his chin pushes his face up higher and Link steps in closer as if pulled by a string. His mouth falls open despite it all—he has something to say—he’d caught a glimpse of broken chains; wonders who locked this sword down here, and why, why when his voice is so nice to listen to, when he’s so full of passion. Who would hide him away? Who would forget him down here in the dark? 

“I don’t want…” Link starts to say, answering the question, but doesn’t get to finish.

A clawed hand slips up the side of his jaw, tilts his head forcefully, and then Link is being kissed. 

Ghirahim’s mouth is somehow metallic and smooth all at once. It’s the strangest thing he’s ever had against his lips. Link rises up onto his toes, hand pressing into hard diamond, trying to reach, trying to get more of that odd mouth and wondering when or if he’s going to feel those teeth. A surge of that clawing, whispering, wonderful energy flows through his head and he groans, his heart thudding, and then he’s climbing— 

He climbs right into the demon’s lap, knees digging into the stone slab, splayed out on either side of black thighs. He’s barely half an inch taller like this; but he _is_ taller and he kisses down against the pretty black mouth under him, his head swooning with unfurling dark fog. It must be more magic—some force that pours from the demon naturally—he probably shouldn’t like it as much as he does, being the chosen hero he is, but… 

The red diamond under Link’s hand is vibrating, only slightly. He pets his whole palm across it, letting his fingers drag. A low, long moan slips out of the demon under him. A noise that sounds like a secret. A rare feeling, a vulnerable meaning, something only meant for him. 

The gem gets hot. It gets too hot to touch, but Link keeps his hand there anyway, Ghirahim’s words from earlier ringing in his head. 

_You will bind our souls together for all of time, however little of it someone of your lowly station may harbour._

He pulls away from the kiss; only because the mouth against his own had stopped moving. White eyes are shut to black metal skin and the demon sword, foreboding as he is, looks helpless in this moment. Peaceful. With his free hand Link holds the side of his head. He’s hot—his skin is metal being forged. His hair is just as soft as it looks. 

Bright red light draws Link’s gaze down to his other hand, still over the diamond. The magic there is flowing out; when he pulls his hand away resounding light follows, stretching out like a red string. He twirls his hand around, watching the light reflect strangely; he looks at the demon, eyes still shut; he hears the hushed whispers from the obsidian hall that led him here, the call of this sword; that heady haze of energy seeps further inside him, starting from his red-lit hand, and Link gasps as he lets it straight into his heart. 

He’s devoured, in one sense or another, and it burns but feels better than anything he’s ever felt. 

Gradually, the light fades away. Red dissipates, the soft blue of the luminous stone replacing it. Link looks back down at the demon, still holding the side of his face with one peach hand and the gem with the other; still straddling his thighs. Both of Ghirahim’s arms had fallen limp to his sides. 

“Ghirahim?” he asks softly, his whole body shaking, shivering with sudden coldness. 

As the demon wakes up Link feels warm, and he realizes why at the same time those fanged teeth slip sleekly into a low smile. 

“I am yours now, _little master_ ,” he says, staring up at Link with those endless white eyes. Link, for his part, does his best to stop shaking, wrung through with charged feeling. “What delights await us, I wonder. I have not seen the surface in a few millennia.” The fangs gleam in the blue glow from the stone. Link breathes out slowly, his muscles weakened by the ancient spell. He frowns because vaguely he registers that someone locked him down here for _millennia_ and he doesn’t like that—who would do that—how— “You had best be as strong as you seem, hero, or I will become _very_ disagreeable. And you do not want that.” 

“I’m strong,” Link says listlessly, his eyes glassy, and he leans back down to kiss the demon quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stole 'little master' from [queerahim](https://queerahim.tumblr.com//). 
> 
> This ship needs to let me rest!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tonic](https://cactustonic.tumblr.com/) told me they might draw something for this back in June and I was like 'oh cool maybe a little one page comic doodle thing' and I would've Lost My Mind even at a tiny doodle BUT THEY DREW A _WHOLE 26 PAGE COMIC_ AND NOW I'VE PASSED ON TO THE AFTERLIFE
> 
> seriously this is so cool i'm.........no t alright. Every time I look at it I suffer in the best way ❤ Tonic did what I did not, and let these two have a good time ❤ ❤ (aka this is a bit **nsfw** )
> 
> **Please live your best life and go read the whole thing:[HERE](https://cactustonic.tumblr.com/post/629139034292240385/no-re-posting-next-hello-thank-you-for)**

**→[Continued](https://cactustonic.tumblr.com/post/629139034292240385/no-re-posting-next-hello-thank-you-for)←**


End file.
